


One Bad Turn Deserves Another

by EbonyMortisRose



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Blood and Injury, Other, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 12:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyMortisRose/pseuds/EbonyMortisRose
Summary: Geoffery McCullum wakes on the floor of the Pembroke attic. A newly turned and very hungry vampire.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Original Female Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	One Bad Turn Deserves Another

**Author's Note:**

> McCullum wakes up as a vampire in the attic of the Pembroke hospital after losing his fight with Dr. Reid. In the game, he somehow manages to get all the way out without eating anyone. Reid couldn't even make it to the end of a dock, before killing his sister. So here's what may have happened.
> 
> Also very sorry for bad grammar, spelling, typos. My approach to this is throwing commas and full stops at the screen and see what sticks.  
> My first fanfic so be merciful.

Ebony's body shuck, as a wet rattling cough, escaped her lips. Her lungs burned with every breath. Her airway feeling like coarse sandpaper.  
She wiped a pale, shaking hand across her lips and in the dim gas lamplight, she saw blood.  
She'd been in the Pembroke for a week now, giving her last shilling to that foreign nurse to guarantee a bed.  
She had ended up on the second floor, in a storeroom that had been converted into a makeshift patient room which only fitted two beds.  
This action was taken because every available space downstairs had been used. Even beds were piling up out into the courtyard, having to be covered by army tents.  
She shivered, pulling the thin wool blanket around her, thankful to be indoors and glanced over at the other occupant.  
He was An old man she'd seen working down by the docks. And had been in a bad way this morning, coughing and shaking with fever. He was thankfully quiet now and had his back to her facing the wall.  
She wanted to check to see if he was ok, but she was too weak to move. And she noted his bowl of broth sat cold on the table next to her own.  
Her stomach grumbled with hunger, but she just couldn't keep anything down.  
She was scared, she knew she was sick. Knew the doctors were doing all they could. - She didn't want to die, not here alone, in this dark fetid room.

She tried to turn her thoughts to more positive things. And thought one of the benefits of being the only other patient room on the second floor, was that she was just across the hall from the doctor's offices.  
That nice Doctor Reid always started his rounds with her room. The other doctors also came round and the nurses, to change her sweat soak sheets.  
But when she heard the door handle turn, her heart always skipped a beat when he walked in.  
She doesn't know what it was about him. Was it the way he was always well dressed and his hair and beard immaculately groomed?  
The way he never wore a white lab coat, which made him seem more like a gentleman caller than a doctor?  
Or was it his eyes, those sad baby blue eyes that seemed to stare right through her?  
She lay there in the dim-lit room picturing those haunting blue eyes peering down at her. The heady smell of his cologne drifting over her as he leans over to examine her.  
That deep baritone voice, both caring and commanding asking how she was feeling, and In those intimate moments, she felt like she was his only patient, like everything she said truly mattered to him.  
He even made her forget that she would have looked a frightful mess. He seemed to see passed that caring only about making her well again.  
None of the other doctors asked about her life, her family, and friends. They didn't seem to care. Making her feel like she was more of an inconvenience, yet another victim of this Spanish flu. And that she should stop messing about taking up precious space and resources and either get better or...God, she didn't want to die.  
She was shaken from her fevered thoughts by the sound of the door handle turning. There was no clock in this room just a window to her right that had a makeshift curtain made out of a blanket nailed over it.  
The sun had set what felt like hours ago. The only person who did rounds this late was Doctor Reid and smiling she felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in her stomach as the door creaked slowly open.

_________________________________

Geoffrey sat bolt upright, taking in a sharp intake of breath.  
  
"Fuck." - he groaned.  
  
His head swam like he'd downed a bottle of whiskey, it was so hard to focus. _'What was I doing, where am I? '_ \- he thought.  
  
He ran his tongue over his cracked and dry lips and tasted something. He licked it again. Sweet, Metallic. and a need began to form in the back of his throat.  
  
"So thirsty...Need more...Need." - He croaked out.  
  
It was like he was in a dream. All the colour had been drained out of the world, leaving only fuzzy greys and blacks.  
He managed to clumsily get to his feet. Still sucking on his bottom lip, trying to get more of that taste. But not enough would come.

''Need! _..._ So, damn, thirsty...''  
  
Then in this monochrome world, he makes out the outline of a lift gate in front of him, and it takes every ounce of concentration to drag one foot in front of the other towards it.  
Once in front of it he wrenches the gate open with such force he nearly stumbles into the interior catching himself on the back wall.  
With his world still spinning he turns and with even more effort he pulls the wooden gate door shut and looks out at the attic floor through the gaps.  
He's hit with a flash of memory, of coming up in this lift. Of opening the door. Pain. Bloody kisses.

''Need.'' - He slurs out.

a small rational part of him knows he has to push buttons to get this cage to move. And so frantically he begins to bash at those next to him, until after what feels like an age. The lift shudders and begins to decend.  
Again when the lift shudders to a holt, it takes a monumental amount of concentration to get his hands to work the gate open. But soon he's free and staggering along a bright grey corridor.  
The over, head, lights hurt his eyes, causing him to squint, and he whimpers. All he want's to do is get out of this nightmare and have a drink.  
He can hear voices, muffled as if his head were held underwater, they were so distant he couldn't make out what they were saying.  
Then he saw off in the distance, a pulsing beacon, of vibrant red. It called to him, promising salvation from this bleak sea.

_'Need.'_

That siren call became his world, blocking out all other noise. All he could hear was a rhythmic. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. And the need, like a clawing animal in his gut, that cried out for him to take it.  
Whimpering, with arms outstretched to seize his prize, his hands banged into an obstacle in his path, a door. Frantic he grappled with the handle. - It was so close.

_'Want. Need.'_

_______________________________________

When she saw the man silhouetted in the doorway, she knew it wasn't doctor Reid. And through her fever blurred vision, she could see this man was clearly drunk.  
As he stood in the doorway, panting and swaying slightly. Even using the door handle and door frame to support himself.  
she noted he wore a long dark trench coat, that was torn in places. And his hair though short, was dishevelled and a few strands hung over his piercing blue eyes.  
And that look, she had seen looks like that before. From the dockworkers as she scurried passed from finishing her shift at the munitions factory. lustful, hungry. Almost as if a beast was wearing the skin of a human and was staring out at her.  
The drunk must have come from downstairs, she thought. But as he staggered towards her bed, arms outstretched muttering something. She couldn't smell the telltale sign of drink on him.  
But with increasing alarm, she did notice the bloodstains on his grey torn shirt and neck.  
  
Her heart began to pound in her ears, as she desperately willed all her meagre strength into her malnourished arms to pull herself up onto her elbows. And only managed to shuffle back up against the bedstead, her pillow moving with her.  
She then drew in a raspy breath, ready to scream, but it only resulted in her coughing and spluttering.  
Terrified, she glanced over at the other occupant, who still hadn't moved. As tears build in her eyes, clouding her vision. She realises he's dead.  
Deep down she knows he's been dead for a while. Not wanting to acknowledge to herself, that if such a robust dock worker could die on this flu. Then what chance did she have?  
She should have called a nurse, should have told them she had heard his death rattles. Then there would have been a chance a nurse or orderly would be by, to deal with the body.  
But her denial had condemned her, no one was coming, she was alone.  
Tears erupted down her cheeks, as she desperately tried to get her coughing under control to cry out. Then suddenly he leapt onto the bed.  
Too weak to react, she couldn't stop him clamping a calloused hand over her mouth. His thumb and fingers dug into her sunken cheeks and wrench her face to the side exposing her neck.  
She then heard his coarse voice by her ear growl.

''Need!''

Then she felt pain. He had bit into the side of her neck, and she felt two sharp teeth driving into her flesh, like being savaged by a dog. Again she tried to out, but it was reduced to a muffled moan behind his hand that gripped her face.  
Frantically, she lashed out at his head. Pulling at his hair, pushing at his shoulder, but it was no use. His full weight was on her, pinning her to the bed. Straddling her, his thighs clamped over her own thin frame.  
Grisly sucking and moaning sounds came from the man's throat, that vibrated through her own neck. And all she could scream in her mind was; 'I don't want to die, not like this!'  
  
As he continued to suck the very life from her, she noted his hand was still covering her mouth. And as that was the only target she had left, she opened her mouth as wide as she could, and grabbed a meaty part of his palm between her teeth, and bit down with all her might.  
She felt part of the flesh come away in her mouth, and soon her tongue was coated in that foul metallic fluid. But still, she bit deeper. Savaging his hand as he was savaging her throat.  
Then after a while the violence of the biting began to subside, to a more gentle sucking. like she would imagine a babe at a breast and the pain was fading too. like she was becoming numb to this cruel world.  
Even her rasping breathing had begun to slow, along with her once frantic beating heart.  
She couldn't remember when she closed her eyes and just let the welcoming void take her.

_____________________________________

Pure ecstasy, every fibre in his being pulses and tingles. Shock waves of pleasure white-out his vision.  
He lets his head loll back, basking in the buzz. Feeling the warming nectar run down his once parched throat.  
He runs his tongue over his lips, his thirst finally sated. The aching need now gone. Then he recognises the taste. Blood.  
Like an addict coming down from a high, his world comes crashing back. First is sounds. The echoing sounds of the patients and doctors far below.  
Yes, patients. He was in a hospital, the Pembroke.  
He then realised he was holding something and looked down. And to his horror saw he was straddling a young woman. Her jaw gripped in his hand, a mockery of what that leech Reid had done to him only moments ago...was it moments?  
As he pulls his hand away from her pale face, it comes away wet and sticky, covered in blood. His eyes then dart to her neck noting the blood-soaked collar of her grey nightgown and the savage bite marks; marks he had made.

"Oh, shit. No!" he cries, pushing away from her in disgust, and rocks back onto his backside. Then scurries back away to the end of the bed, shaking his head unable to process what he had done. No, what that leech had made him do!

Now his senses were firing on full alert he looked around the dim-lit room he now found himself in and noticed the other occupant. But even though the room was filled with the intoxicating smell of fresh blood.  
He could still detect the stagnant notes of decay, coming off the corpse of the man. Did he kill him too...please god, no. He thought.

"Oh, sweet Jesus help me!" - He cried out, not to any deity but for pity of his own damned soul.

Then suddenly, as if his prayers had been answered, the woman in the bed opened her eyes wide and looks straight at him. Her pale green eyes were bloodshot, filled with fear, then agony as she suddenly grabbed at her chest.  
She wheezed, clearly struggling to get a breath and reached out with her other hand towards him pleading.  
Quickly he sat back up and scrambled towards her and grabbed that out stretched tiny hand in his own. She looked like she was about to say something when her back arches as if she were struck by lightning and she gave out a gargled gasp.  
So similar to his own death throws he had just gone through it was chilling.  
  
All he can say over and over is. ''Sweet Jesus, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!''

Then shouting, pleading again to any who would hear. ''Jesus! ya, feckin bastard leech doctor help me!''

Then he watched as the woman let out a final rasping sigh and sank back onto the bed. Her hand then going limp in his.  
Filled with denial that this was her end, he grabbed her by the shoulders and began to shake her.

''No! Come on lass, oh god!''

She was like a lifeless doll in his hands and when she doesn't respond, and he can actually see the red heat at the heart of her grow from vibrant red to deep crimson, then black, he finally has to admit he has killed her.  
Gently he lowers her to the bed and bows his head in shame and begins to weep, muttering.  
  
''You made me a killer. You made me take the life of an innocent woman. You bastard. like father, like son.''

His tears run down his cheeks, through his stubble and drip crimson onto her ashen face.  
He then blinks, noticing their dark colour, even in this dim light and wipes at her cheek tasting it and quickly spits to one side in revulsion. Blood. Even his tears were corrupted.  
Disgusted he goes to wipe the tears from her face, and that's when he notices the blood on her lips.  
With morbid curiosity he gently pulled back her bottom lip, to see her teeth were also stained with blood. His blood?  
He looks at his hand, the one he had covered her mouth with. His palm was still sticky from the bite she had delivered, but there was no wound there now.  
Bloody leech healing ability he thought. But just to confirm he licked his palm and there was indeed a distinct difference in the taste, it was his blood.  
A part of him was utterly disgusted by the fact that he could discern the difference. But that thought was pushed to the back with the immediate fact at hand. She might not be dead. Well yes, but. Fuck.  
  
Quickly dives off the bed, whipping back the sheets, revealing a slim woman, pale and thin in a grey ankle-length wool nightdress.  
There was no time to think about impropriety and quickly he picks her up realising she weighs as much as a feather pillow.  
He wasn't sure if this was due to her frailty, or his new vampiric strength. All he cared about right then was getting her to the leech doctor. He will fix this he thought. He'll make him fix this!  
He felt something then. like a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, and felt.

 _Concern. Worry.  
  
_ He was a flood of emotions right now, but somehow he knew those were not his own. _Reid!_  
Cradling the woman to him, he stormed out of the door marching towards the doctor's office. God help anyone who got in his way he thought, all the while screaming in his mind.

**'I know you can fecking hear me leech! I need you!'**

Within minutes he's at Reid's door and with a swift kick, it crashes open.  
He'd been here before, scoping the place out, trying to find some link between him and that fecker Swansea. Shit, he thought. He was probably dead by now.  
But the director had what was coming to him, he had a hand in creating this epidemic, he knew it. His boys were going to beat the truth out of him that night. The night he fought Reid and lost...was it even the same night?'  
  
There's a single wire framed bed in this office, and he gently placed the woman on it. And with shaking hands put her own hands down at her sides, and brushed a lank dark strand of hair from her face.  
He then looked around the office, unsure what the hell to do next. There was a lab table full of equipment he has no idea how to use, and vials of shit he has no idea what their purpose was.  
He had basic military medical training, he knew how to patch up wounds and how to kill leeches. This, this shit was way out of his league.  
He also notices there's a door at the back that leads out onto a balcony and that there are no windows in this office. Great for a leeches lair, with a weak and vulnerable food supply just below his feet.  
  
"Fecking leech doctor!" - he grumbled.

He then hears a noise like someone had just flicked a blanket on a washing line and turned to see doctor Reid in all his well-tailored glory, stood by the open balcony door.  
There wasn't a mark on him from their fight, not even a hair out of place. - _'Bastard!'_  
Within seconds Geoffrey has grabbed him by the scruff of his coat collars, spun him and shoved him into the nearest wall. letting out a feral snarl. letting his anger, his frustration, his disgust with himself boil over.  
He feels his fangs extend piercing his bottom lip as he grits his teeth.

___________________________________________

Jonathan felt the hunter's euphoria whilst stood over the dying body of Dr Edgar Swansea.  
The guards of Priwen had beaten him so badly there was no saving him, and after turning Geoffrey he couldn't do it again. That was a moment of weakness. A moment he let the beast surface and take control.  
Forcing the proud hunter to become the very thing he despised. A fitting punishment he thought, at the time.  
  
He had to steady himself as the wave hit, surprised at how strongly the shared connection between sire and progeny washed over him even at this distance across town.  
But it was wrong, he instantly thought. Not only should the hunter not be feeling the thrill of the taste of blood. He should not even have been awake yet.  
He remembered his own turning, awaking disorientated, confused, but he was sure it had taken hours.  
It must have been King Arthur's blood. Geoffrey had drunk that tonic during the fight, to give him an edge over him, consequences be damned. It must have somehow speed up the process he thought.

"Oh god, Geoffrey what have I done." - _'Concern. worry.'_

He then looks down at the now growing cold form of Edgar. Once a colleague and friend, he should feel sadness at his passing or even guilt at not saving his life.  
But there were enough monsters In the world, that he had found out he had been partially responsible for. He wasn't going to grant this man immortality to continue with his experiments when he thought he was no longer watching.  
Then he's hit with a flood of emotions.

_'Horror. Guilt. Anger. Helplessness.'_

God, it was like he was reliving taking his sister's life all over again.  
Within the blink of an eye, he'd turned to black mist. leaping out of a nearby window onto a neighbouring rooftop. Dawn was only hours away but he didn't care. He had to make things right, he had to be there for his hunter, for Geoffrey.  
Another four jumps and he was standing in the balcony doorway to his office and could help take in a - very human, sharp intake of breath when he sees Geoffrey leaning over a woman on his bed.  
She was not radiating any heat and he could not see the red beat of her heart and he noticed there was blood on her throat, her face and her lips.  
Geoffrey was stroking her hair out of her eyes and then in the blink of an eye he's was on him. His blue eyes blazing, fangs bared. The woman's blood still coating his lips and teeth.  
He was shoved painfully into a nearby wall, causing the desk next to him with its vials and bottles to rattle.  
The hunter was snarling in his face and he was overwhelmed with waves of hatred, disgust and something else, helplessness.

Grabbing fist full's of Reid's coat. McCullum brought the leech right up into his face and slammed him back into the wall, again and again. Punctuating every curse, every spit filled yell.  
  
''Ya sick bastard. You turned me and left me in a fecking hospital!'' - SLAM! - **'ANGER'**

''A feckin hospital, full of innocent defenceless people!'' - SLAM! - **'HATE'**

''Look what ya made me do!'' - SLAM!- **'SHAME, DISGUST'**

The wall behind the doctor was begging to splinter with every forceful shove. And He even cracked his head a few times, rocking back painfully hitting it against the woodwork.  
But he didn't put up a defence. He deserved this, he thought. he deserved whatever his hunter wanted to do to him. If he asked him right then to walk out into the coming dawn he would.

McCullum bashed him up against the wall again. Frustration building that the leech wasn't fighting back. ''Come on you bastard, fight. What's the matter, the fact that I'm just as strong as you now. Coward!''

All Jonathan could do was take the blows. His self-pity and utter regret paralysing him. The only thought echoing through his mind was.

_'I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry.'_

McCullum could feel the waves of sorrow and guilt radiating off the man. But it was a pitiful rainstorm and in no way could drown out his own volcano of hate and self-disgust.  
He shakes his head as his emotions begin to boil over out of his eyes rolling down his cheeks as steaming red tears.  
He then steps back and clenches a fist. Not realising his nails had turned to talon-like claws, which dig into his palm. He swings with all his might at this thing, this leech, and connects with a satisfying crack on his jaw. Busting the leeches lip and knocking him off his feet. He watches as he lands on his hands and knees, then runs his tongue out to catch the blood from his split lip.  
The leech then just looks up at him with those pale blue eyes like a kicked puppy.  
This only enraged him further. how pathetic he was. did he actually think he could forgive him? Feel sorry for him?  
Fuming he grabbed the leech under his chin, violently forcing his head up. He wanted to tear out those sorrowful eyes and raised his free had to do just that; then he stops.  
And looks in fascination at his raised hand. At the blood-stained deadly claws, he now had. Bloodstained. Not Reid's blood, his blood.  
He looks down at the pathetic leech still on his knees, face firmly in his grasp, and notices his split lip has already healed, but the blood still stains his chin and beard.  
Roughly he lifts him up by his chin, forcing him to get to his feet, then lets him go, and looks at the palm of his hand that was bitten by the woman brow creased in thought.

''Its blood isn't it?' When you forced me to drink your blood. That's how you turned me right?''

The leech just nods.

''Does it have ta be a large amount?''

Jonathan raises an eyebrow, feeling the sudden change in his hunter's temperament. Gone was the steaming waves of hatred, now he was getting something else. Hope.  
His throat felt dry. Hoarse from the psychic blows he had just endured and looked once more over at the still, very dead woman.

''Geoffrey I'm sorry. it's too late to turn her.''

The fire ignites back in McCullum's eyes and once again he's is in his face teeth clenched.

''How. Much. Blood. Is needed for the change leech. Answer me!''

Jonathan closes his eyes and even though he doesn't need to, he takes a deep breath. Going back to that horrible moment when all it took was a single drop on his bloody lips, kissing his sister goodbye, to turn her, and answered in a whisper.

''It only took a drop to turn my sister. One would assume because of the massive exsanguination of her own blood supply. The virus was able to...''  
It was another blow to his face that stopped him mid-sentence. This time only causing him to stagger back slightly.

''Ya sick fuck. Ya own sister!''

Jonathan rubbed his jaw and felt the broken bone quickly reset with a click and tried to explain. ''Geoffrey, I was caught up in the blood lust. I didn't realise what I had done until.....''  
He trailed off, too ashamed to look the mad Irishman in the face, too ashamed even now to say anymore out loud.  
  
McCullum's anger hung in the air like a red fog then after a moments pause, seeming to gather his composure he said. ''She bit me.''

Jonathan looked up noting that spark of hope was there again. ''What?''

His hunter waved a bloody hand at him, now without any claws present.

''When I...attacked her. She bit me. That's not her blood on her mouth, its mine.''

Both of Jonathan's eyebrows rose, realisation dawning. Then, without wasting time explaining he rushed over to the woman and began to scan the body for any signs of life.  
Using his vampiric senses his world shifted into muted greys and blacks as he focused intently on trying to find those precious red tendrils of life anywhere on her body.  
leaning over her, he then ran a thumb over her cold lips and tasted the drying blood there. It was definitely his hunters, vibrant and strong.  
He could never forget the taste of it from their fight. But there was something else there too, an added spice. The vampiric taint and it made his blood all the more tantalising, he would love to have more.  
His hunter. His progeny stood oh so close. The scent of his new rich blood, mixed with the heady scent of his musky body odour made him salivate.  
He closed his eyes and took an un-needed deep breath and tried to get his primal instincts under control. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand. He needed to do this for him.  
  
Opening his eyes once more he followed the dry blood from her lips, down her throat to her heart and tilted his head, staring intently at that dark little organ.  
Then he saw it, there. Like a ruby surrounded by a fist of coal was the spark he was looking for.  
He only had to look up at his hunter not having to say a word. He could instantly feel the wave of relief through the connection they shared. But then Jonathan became worried.  
  
McCullums eyebrows creased. "What?"

''We have to get her out of here.''

''Well, we can't take her back to the guard.'' McCullums face then knitted into a scowl. ''shit. I can't go back!'' Blue eyes blazed again at the leech.

 **'Hate.' -** _'Make this right!'_

 **Sorrow, Guilt. -** _'I will.'_

Jonathan then looks over his shoulder at the still open balcony doorway to the lightening sky beyond.  
''We have maybe half an hour until dawn. I can take her to my home. She will be safe there. You stay here, you have yet to learn how to shadow step.''

He turns to pick the woman up but is shoved roughly aside.

''Fuck that! I'm not leaving her alone with you leech!''

Jonathan just squares up to McCullum looking again over his shoulder at the sky.

''We are running out of time Geoffrey, please! She can't stay here.''

McCullum grinds his teeth looking from the leech to the woman. No, not just a woman his progeny. His leech. God help him he thought.  
He didn't even know her name. And as if reading his thoughts, or maybe the guilt coming off him was so strong it formed the question, Jonathan answered.

''Her name is Ebony. Miss Ebony Briarwood. She was dying of Tuberculosis and I promise you I will guard her until you can be by her side.''

Teeth still clenched McCullum just nods and watches as the leech lifted the lifeless woman, no Ebony. Up into his arms and in a swirl of black smoke was gone; A ghost of _'I'm sorry',_ vanishing with him through the bond.  
He stood then looking out over the streets below wanting so desperately to follow but even now could feel his eyes suddenly growing heavy with the coming dawn.  
Staggering over to the office door he had kicked in only moments ago, he slammed it shut and sank down to the floor next to it whispering.

''Until tomorrow leech and I will end you for this!''

**Author's Note:**

> As this was my first ever fic I went back and made a few tweaks, as I have an idea for a self-indulgent part 2.


End file.
